


a disaster

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, this was something i whipped up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A baking competition gone horribly wrong.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	a disaster

**Author's Note:**

> oml  
> i don't know why i did this  
> this piece was something i and my groupmates wrote for school kudos/credits to them :))  
> so yeah  
> no bangtan boys

“So, what we’re supposed to do is bake a batch of cookies?” Maria asked, raising her eyebrows. “And if they’re good, we win this?” She glances at the trophy sitting on the table. 

Mabel smiles apologetically. “Yes, and one of your competitors is over there.” She gestures to the boy sitting across from her. 

Ace looks up, and when he sees the two staring at him, he grins and waves. “Hello there, I’m guessing one of you is my competitor? Oh, might it be-” he looks between the two, before he looks directly at Maria, his grin widening, “-you?” 

Maria gives him a blank stare that Ace returns. Ace stares up at her, expectantly, with a grin. Neither of them say anything, only staring at one another with mixed reactions- Ace waiting for a response and Maria not wanting to give one, looking like she’d much rather be anywhere but here. The clock on the wall ticks. Tick, tock. Ace stares. Tick, tock. Maria glares, and then-

“...Yes. Though I wasn’t expecting a kid,” she adds when she turns to Mabel.

Ace pouts, “Hey, I’m no kid. Yes, I may look like one, because of my oh-so-youthful looks, but I’m twenty five. Anyway,” he leans back further, “this’ll be a piece of cake.” 

Maria frowns. “Did you just make a pun?” 

Ace laughs, “I’m surprised you caught on so quickly. Not many people get the yolk.”

“...why are you acting like this is a big secret?” She huffs in exasperation, and runs a hand through her hair. “I have a son, and he makes the stupidest jokes ever-- he drives me insane.”

“You have a son?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow. “At this age?”

“Yes,” she replies curtly. 

There’s a silence. Mabel coughs lightly, and says, “Well, alright then, if you would follow me please.”

Ace goes back to grinning and salutes, “Well, see ya, and good luck!”

Now, Mabel is on the stadium, microphone in hand, “Welcome, everyone, to the annual baking competition! I hope you all brought your lucky spatulas, because this year we have more competitors than ever! Now if you would all go to your places, and may the best baker win! 

“As you all get to your places, I will review the rules for you. The competition works in rounds, and in each, two people work against each other. You’ll have to be speedy to finish making your cookies before the other. If you see that your competitor has finished before you, do not fret! The judges will each taste one of the cookies, the other person goes on to the next round. If the judges don’t deem it satisfactory, however, the other person has a chance to finish, and they will taste your cookies. If they like them, you pass, if they don’t, no one wins and we just pass onto the next round. Now, let’s start!”

Maria immediately begins to work, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Ace speeding along as well. She grits her teeth, and brushes her hair out of her eyes as she dumps flour into the bowl. Tick, tock. She cracks the eggs, and stirs it. She adds chocolate to the mix. After a while, the dough is ready, and she shoves the pan into the oven. She glances at the clock. Ten minutes left. She turns to Ace, who seems a bit frazzled as he mixes the dough. She smiles in satisfaction. 

“Eight minutes left!” Mabel shouts, and Ace upturns the entire bag of flour. All of it. All over him. He looks down on it, shrugs, grins, and puts the dough into the oven. Maria gapes at him. He catches her eye, and aims his grin at her. She scowls, and storms over to his area. Ace raises an eyebrow, and crosses his arms.

“What is it?” he asks, seeming completely unbothered.

“Where is your shame?” she hisses, and points at the flour scattered all over the floor aggrievedly. Ace furrows his brows and tilts his head. “Do you want me to clean it?”

“Yes!” she snaps.

“Five minutes left!” Mabel calls, then her gaze settles on the two. Her eyes widen. 

“Why are you worried?” he asks, arms crossed. Maria eyes him, and sighs. “You do realize you violated the rules, right?”

“...No?” 

“You can’t make a mess on the floor. Which you did.”

“Wha-! That sounds completely stupid!”

“Even if it’s ‘stupid’, it’s still a rule! Clean it!”

Ace clicks his tongue, the easy grin sliding off his face. “Since you’ve said, I’m not cleaning it. Besides, it’s not a mess at all,” Maria shoots a disbelieving glance at his apron, splattered with flour, “yeast you could do is give me a pass.”

Ace is now throwing his disgusting pickle cookies at everyone. And in the end, Ace is on the ground with a bunch of dough, defeated.

Someone in the audience steps up from the crowd, glaring at Mabel. “Your trophy,” she says, holding it up to Maria- stained with flour and dough.


End file.
